Classic Poem

Muse be a bride-maid, dost not heare
How honoured Hunt and his faire Deere
This day prepare their wedding cheere?

The swiftest of thy pinions take,
And hence a suddaine journey make,
To helpe 'em breake their bridall Cake.

Hast 'em to Church, tell 'em love sayes
Religion breeds but fond delayes,
To lengthen out the tedious dayes.

Chide the slow Preist, that so goes on,
As if he feard he should have done
His sermon, e're the glasse be runne.

Bid him post o're his words, as fast
As if himselfe were now to tast
The pleasure of so faire a wast.

Now lead the blessed Couple home,
And serve a dinner up for some;
Their banquet is as yet to come.

Maids dance as nimbly as your blood,
Which I see swell a purple flood
In Emulation of that good

The bride possesseth; for I deeme
What shee enjoyes will be the theme
This night of every virgins dreame.

But envy not their blest content,
The hasty night is almost spent,
And they of Cupid will be shent.

The Sunne is now ready to ride,
Sure 'twas the morning I espide,
Or 'twas the blushing of the bride.

See how the lusty bridegrooms veins
Swell, till the active torrent strains
To breake those o're-stretcht azure chains.

And the faire bride ready to cry
To see her pleasant losse so nigh,
Pants like the sealed Pigeons eye.

Put out the torch, Love loves no lights,
Those that performe his misticke rites
Must pay their Orisons by nights.

Nor can that sacrifice be done
By any Priest , or Nun alone,
But when they both are met in one.

Now you that tast of Hymens cheere,
See that your lips doe meet so neare,
That Cockels might be tutor'd there;

And let the whisprings of your love
Such short and gentle murmurs prove,
As they were Lectures to the dove.

And in such strict embraces twine
As if you read unto the Vine,
The Ivy, and the Columbine.

Then let your mutuall bosomes beat,
Till they create by virtuall heat
Mirrhe, Balme, and spikenard in a sweat.

Thence may there spring many a paire
Of Sonnes and Daughters strong and faire;
How soone the Gods have heard my praier!
Me thinks already I espy
The cradles rock, the babies cry,
And drousy Nurses Lullaby.